I thought is was Jules Vern, a steampunk vision of mega-ships adrift in the air held aloft by blimps. The Pinta, the Mina, the Santa Marie, the sweet Jesus, etc; letters blazing in luminous scrolling script across the sides of their helium bags. In the holds were bombs to strategically decimate the world. Inside the bombs were the enslaved, row after row, ready to be deployed. They were awake, not in suspended animation, loosely chained not securely strapped. They were layered on slats and shelves not settled in seats, not one window but a vent to relieve the pressure of a drop to land. The ships never stopped, drifting over the land, releasing their cargo of bombs. There was deafening whistles that filled the sky and a sicking thud repeated and repeated. Chaos inside the bombs, the flipping and flying of bodies, the sudden stop, the crunching of bones against bones. The sides of the bombs bursting, the rush of light, air, the spilling out of contents. Survivors they were, like drones getting busy, covering the land preparing it for the nation to come. In the background a song waifed through the air, "This land is your land, this land is my land........."
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